Sad as it sounds, it is genuinely astonishing to see a show with contemporary relevance to a young Australian audience on a Sydney main stage. Mr Burns may be an American tale, but in its joyous appropriation of pop culture and celebration of mythology, it resonates with young and old alike.
In the near future, America has been brought low by catastrophic nuclear power plant failures, which have devastated the national grid. In the post-electric world, a group of survivors gather around a campfire and tell the only story they can collectively remember – the ‘Cape Feare’ episode of The Simpsons.
While Mr Burns does bear some of the more cliched tropes of post-apocalyptic storytelling, this play is not about addressing humanity’s end or how far people will go to survive. Ruined America is simply the backdrop to the half-remembered Simpsons episode’s canonisation as myth, proving that our need for story is as vital as our need for food, shelter and each other.
You’ve never seen anything like this.
It opens simply, carried purely on the charisma of the cast as they huddle around a glowing fire. Brent Hill distinguishes himself as a storyteller here, his gaps in memory so genuine that it’s hard not to interject with the quote he’s struggling to find. But then, the whole cast is exceptional. The show feels custom-built for our generation – this story is already in our blood, and this fine cast’s commitment highlights the qualities that made The Simpsons a cultural landmark.
When the story stops, the new world intrudes, and it’s no longer a kind place. Both the actors and designers do a fine job of crafting a sense of danger, leaving spaces where things are better left unsaid.
By the second act, our band of battlers has formed a theatre troupe (complete with the ever-outstanding Paula Arundell) and Simpsons quotes have become the new currency. Cultural capital is now literal. Director Imara Savage indulges in indie aesthetics, creating an epic production (complete with period-appropriate ads) with the means at hand. The song mash-ups may as well be by Girl Talk, for how effectively they work in conjunction.
The less said about the frequently surprising third act, the better, save that it would utterly fail as theatrical form had the preceding hour not warmed you into it. It soars, it sinks, and it genuinely choked up this reviewer as it addressed the decline of our favourite family – “Love never dies in memory,” opines Bart in a powerful moment. You’ve never seen anything like this. It’s a magnificent blend of contemporary art forms that elevates The Simpsons to the realm of Shakespeare, Aesop or (hehe) Homer.
Mr Burns is startling because it stands up as strongly under academic rigour as it does as a piece of pure entertainment. You can wax lyrical about memetic reproduction or the function of pastiche and simulacra in myth-building, or you can just switch off and savour the joy of a high-camp half-squid Mr Burns (Mitchell Butell) sword fighting Bart Simpson (Esther Hannaford) while singing Gilbert and Sullivan.
Mr Burns is a work of singular beauty that allows as much wild abandon as it does cultural relevance. To miss it would be to miss the birth of a legend.
Mr Burns is playing at Belvoir St Theatre until Sunday June 25. Photo by Brett Boardman
